


Lost and Found

by Arisprite



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Amnesia, Angst, Episode: s07e17 Born Again Identity, Gen, Hospital, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arisprite/pseuds/Arisprite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam was twitching and drugged, hallucinating the devil himself, and then not three rooms down from his in the hospital, Dean finds a very familiar face. Too bad the man who answered to Jimmy Novak has no memories, is probably gonna go to jail for mass murder, and has a butt load of demons after him to boot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This was inspired by a tumblr post by gatergirl which I then lost, giving the idea that amnesia!Cas should have been found at the very hospital Sam was put in. I'm breaking my rule, and posting before the story is finished, so I'm sorry this turns out to be just a oneshot. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Warnings/Disclaimer: Do not own, and as much swearing as the show, no slash intended.

**PATIENT'S REPORT  
**

**NAME:** James Novak **  
**

**AGE:** 37 **HEIGHT:** 6'0" **WEIGHT:** 165 **  
**

**HAIR:** Brown **EYE:** Blue **  
**

**RACE:** Caucasian **  
**

**REASON FOR REFERRAL:** Pt was found unclothed in the Name River, presenting with retrograde amnesia and severely flat affect.

**PRESENT SYMPTOMS:**  Further examination have shown him to be healthy physically, though he has mid to poor sleep habits, and shows little appetite for food, eating only what he's given. He has good attention to tasks, and detail recall, and is able to form new memories. He will answer to James, or Jimmy. He is able to sit still, and concentrates extremely well.  
When asked about his past, pt says he does not remember. Pt shows confusion on being asked if he was depressed or anxious at the present time. Exhibits a lack of energy and low interest in his treatments or his fellow pts. **  
**

**BACKGROUND:** Police were consulted when he was found, and identified him as James Novak. Previous mental evaluations have shown him unstable, with religious psychosis, and possible schizophrenia. Disappeared from his home on the night of Sept 18, 2008 as reported by his wife and daughter (Amelia and Claire Novak) after a slow building psychotic break where he claimed to have been propositioned by an angel to become a vessel, and do the work of God. Is suspected in the disappearance of his wife and child a year later. Was seen again on May 30, 2011 when he brutally slaughtered the campaign office of a well known senator, as well as possibly being sighted killing/persecuting various religious leaders and public figures in the previous weeks. Not seen again until June 3, 2011, when he was found in the river as describe above.

* * *

Sam was curled on his side, facing away from the door-not sleeping, but heavily drugged and very out of it. Dean would have thought that being drugged to the gills would make it better, but the hallucinations seemed to be worse than they had earlier, when Dean had finally snapped and taken Sam to the ER, when Sam's ramblings and delusions had finally scared him enough to get professionals involved.

Sam was twitching now, gasping and shrinking from nothing. Dean made a mental note to ask the doctors about the drugs; they really didn't seem to be helping, and Sam could cope better in his right mind, right?

Dean sighed. Who was he kidding? Sam wasn't coping, hadn't been coping. Why do you think he was here in the first place, in his shady ass mental hospital in the middle of nowhere, USA (which was all they could afford, or even pretend to afford). The doctors at the regular hospital had taken one look at his shaking, sleep deprived brother and ordered all kinds of test. Then, when Sam had stupidly said he was seeing Satan...well, lets just say they couldn't get him in a straight jacket soon enough.

Okay, that wasn't completely true. He wasn't even restrained, in there on the bed. The nurses and doctors even seemed nice, if professional and restrained, and there was a sad lack of hot ones. Sam would be in good hands here, but Dean still chafed at this, his inborn distrust of everyone who wasn't Sam (and even then), not to mention authority... But, Dean didn't have much of a say. Sam wanted the help, he was willing to try anything and everything the doctors suggested. Dean couldn't get his pleading, desperate eyes out of his head.

Dean turned away, as if those eyes were right in front of him, not wanting to see the way Sam's massive frame looked small and tense on the white bed, in baggy pyjamas and socks. He looked so vulnerable, and scared, even from here. Dean nearly couldn't stand it.

There was a nurse next to him, one of the few attractive ones, with red curlyish hair and a small round face. Name tag 'Daphne', with a nice body, and blue eyes, but Dean left it at that. He really couldn't muster the energy to even smile for the woman, not with his brother trembling a few feet from him, full of fear for something only he could see.

Daphne smiled professionally at him.

"You all set?" She asked in that too vague way of determining if he was all done staring at her patient. Dean nodded, and began to follow her down the hall, Sam still weighing on his mind (though not enough to stop him from noticing the way Daphne's hips swayed in her scrubs).

This was no short stint in a hospital bed, with a few days of drugs and bandages leaving you good as new. No, Sam was sick. Sick in the head, and there was no way to fix this. A psychiatrist would be way out of his league with this case. Who could hope to understand what Sam had gone through in a century and a half of hell torture? Dean was the only person in the world who could hope to understand, and he sure as hell wasn't leaving him, but he also didn't know if there was much he could do. His hell was a cakewalk compared to Sam's. Sam wasn't getting better from this. That thought was a brick in Dean's stomach.

Bringing his mind to the present was no better, as the inmates of the hospital surrounded him as he followed the nurse down the hall. Dean tried not to look at the various patients milling around in their white pjs, all ass full of crazy and despair. His eyes darted around anyway, following an old bent man as he tottered down the hallway. He locked gazes with a blonde woman who smiled widely at him with chapped lips. He glanced in each room unwillingly, looking in the open doors for physical manifestations of the insanity which leaked from this place, but mostly he just saw quiet, anxious people.

Dean's feet stopped at a doorway, and his brow furrowed. One of the down turned heads looked oddly familiar; messy dark hair folded forward over narrowed shoulders. It was a weary looking man, wearing the same white pjs as everyone else. Dean couldn't see his face, but there was something about him...

"Who's that?" Dean asked, before he could stop himself. Maybe he'd met him before, Dean did meet a lot of people. Daphne, who'd turned back curiously when he'd stopped, glanced inside. Her face softened.

"That's Jimmy,"

At her voice, at his name, Jimmy's head moved, looking up at the door. When Dean saw the man's face, he took a step backwards.

_Cas!_

It was the angel's blue eyes, ruffled hair and perpetual stubble, the same that Dean had last seen covered in black goo and sinking into a dark lake. Cas was here, sitting in a psych ward, in the very hospital that Dean had brought Sam to. How was that possible? Conflicting emotions swirled through Dean, both anger and joy, relief and fear, betrayal and happiness. His throat thickened, and he cleared it.

Cas had only looked at the nurse, but his eyes flickered over at Dean's noise. Then they slid back without expression. the bastard wouldn't even look at him.  
He realized Daphne was speaking to him.

"...know him?" She asked. There was a strange tension in his voice.

"Yeah, I know him." Dean said, having to clear his throat again. "Jimmy Novak." He said, using his apparent alias.

"You do!" Her eyes widened. Dean looked at her.

"What?"

"It's just, no one knows him. He came in with no ID, and we only figured out who he was with fingerprinting. Lucky he was in the system...well..." She trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

Dean frowned. "What is it?" Daphne looked around.

"I shouldn't tell you." Her voice was whisper. Not even Cas in the room would be able to hear. "But if you know him...Police records say he's done some things, but he can't remember anything. He's been deemed unfit for trial, which is why he's here. But maybe, if you testify, you can help..."

Dean swallowed. Of course Jimmy's records would have some terrible things on it. Cas wouldn't know to wipe his prints when he was off killing in the name of his new religion, and hell, he probably was wanted for the disappearance of Amelia and Claire too. This was bad.

Daphne had gone pale.

"Please don't tell anyone I told you. I could get fired, or worse."

"Why did you tell me?" Dean asked. She glanced into the dim room, and back to Dean.

"He's sweet, and quiet and never lifts a hand to anyone, unlike some of the other patients here. I can take care of myself, but he stepped in one time, and stopped things from getting out of hand. If I can help him...I want to."

Dean felt a pang in his heart. That did sound like Cas, excepting the last time he saw him.

"Can I go in?" Dean asked. Daphne nodded, still looking fearful. Dean smiled at her, trying to be reassuring, while in reality his stomach was tied up like a hangman's noose. She stepped back, and shut the door behind her, leaving the room dim from the overcast weather outside.

Dean approached Cas slowly. He was sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, which was about the only furniture beside another chair, a small table and a bed like Sam's; industrial and bolted to the floor. Cas glanced towards him and back to the wall in front of him with little interest.

Dean slid the other chair in front of Cas, and settled in carefully.

"Hey, man." Dean said, and waited for a response. There was none. Dean shifted uncomfortably. He internally shook his head. Why was he even here, Cas was supposed to be dead. Sam would soon be dead because of him, how could Dean just sit here and try to coax a response about the angel who had broken his trust so badly?

Swallowing, Dean pushed all those thoughts away, for now. Cas was alive, and for all his anger, Dean coulnd't deny that he was glad to see him. It caused his stomach to churn, but he was.

"It's Dean. Dean Winchester." Dean said, wondering if his name would trigger something. Cas did blink, and look at him then. His face was blank, if a little confused.

"Do I know you?" He asked, and it was the same voice. Gruff and toneless, and it made Dean's gut twist painfully.

"Yeah, you do. Pretty well, actually."

Cas' eyes cleared a little at that, as if realizing for the first time that there actually was someone in the room with him.

"You know me?" He said, his voice losing that tonelessness, and sounding freaking childlike. "We were...friends?"

Dean nodded. There was no other way to answer that. No words could cover it. The friendship that had led to Castiel's actions last year...There was no way to explain, not without someone thinking he would be crazy for sitting here at all.

Cas took that in, his eyes liquid in the dimming light.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember you."

"It's okay." Dean said, having had to clear his throat again. He shifted in his chair.

Cas stared at him, and damn, it was just like he used to, like he was trying to read the writing on his very soul. Hell, he probably could have seen if, if there was any. But now, this Cas was trying to see a reflection, see what Dean knew about him. After a minute, Cas looked away, his shoulders hunched up.

"They found me on the edge of a lake. I don't remember anything, but they say I did things. Terrible things. That I killed a lot of people." Cas curled up smaller. "Is it true?"

Dean sat back. What to say to that? There was no way to tell him, 'yeah, you did kill a butt ton of people, but you were being controlled by millions of mythological creatures, although it all really was your fault in the first place, you stupid bastard, not to mention what you did to my brother down the hall...' Yeah, way too hard to explain that one.

"You really don't remember anything, do you?" Cas looked at him, but there wasn't any of his old self in his eyes. There was no recognition, none of that knowing which Cas had always looked at him with before. Dean felt a strange kind of hurt.

"Nothing." Cas' gaze intensified. "You knew me before. Tell me."

Dean sighed, rubbing his neck.

"Why do they think you did terrible things?" He said, skirting the question.

"My fingerprints are linked with various and extensive crimes, starting with the disappearance of my wife and child. The only reason I'm here instead of jail is that they can't prove my guilt until I confess."

"But you can't remember doing it," Dean said.

"They said they have footage. It's only a matter of time..." Cas said, almost emotionlessly, but Dean could see slight shakes in his finger when they were clasped together in his lap. Dean remembered with a sickening flash the news clip they watched six months ago. Cas' crazy smile had filled the screen as the Leviathans forced him to slaughter that politician's office.

Cas was staring at his face, and Dean didn't think to hide his reaction quick enough to keep Cas from seeing the change. The angel crumpled forward.

"It is true."

"It's complicated." Dean said, leaning forwards to meet Cas eyes, but the guy stared at the floor. "Hey, listen to me. You did the best you could, everything that happened was because you were trying to do the right thing."

But Cas wasn't listening. His back was curved, and started to shake and heave with each breath. He let out a pained noise, and lifted his hands to his face. The movement alerted Daphne outside, keeping watch through the little window, and the door swung open.

"Cas-I mean Jimmy?" Dean said, standing. Daphne came over, her eyes flashing.

"What did you do?"

Dean stepped back while Daphne soothed Cas' panic and got him into bed. Then she pushed him out of the room.

"What the hell was that?" She said, once the door was shut. Dean, feeling overwhelmed at everything that had happened these past few days, shook his head.

"I just told him who I was." He lied. She bit her lip, and glanced to the door.

"Did he start to remember?" She asked. Dean shrugged.

"I think he was just trying..."

Her shoulders slumped, but there was also relief in her face. Dean could relate. If Cas did remember, he'd only remember all the wrongs he did. Maybe he'd be better off here, with no memories, forever.

"Can I come see him again?" Dean asked. She sighed.

"I'm going to have to speak with his doctors. This is big. Legally big. If he remembers something...well, it could be good or bad for him. You'll probably have to talk with the doctors and police too, if you know him from before."

"Great."

Dean leaned backwards, just wanting to face plant somewhere. Damn, he was tired. Daphne eyed him for another moment.

"Is there any truth to it, to what they say he'd done." She blushed a bit. "I'm not asking as a nurse, but just a ...friend I guess. Who was he before?"

Dean swallowed, and rubbed a hand over his face. Now was not the time for Cas to be picking up little crushes and Dean did not want to have to tell this one that Cas actually had murdered all those people. Damn.

"Cas isn't a bad person. Whatever he's done, he did because he felt he had to. Leave it at that." Dean said, knowing that helped nothing. Daphne screwed up her face.

"Cas?"

Dammit, he was going by Jimmy here.

"Nickname. I called him that." Dean said, the weak excuse earning him the mental echo of his father's reprimand about cover stories and remembering the details.

Oh well.

"Sorry, I gotta check into my motel room. We done here?"

Daphne stepped back, going professional again, and nodding.

"Of course, sorry, sir."

Dean followed her out of the building, leaving Sam, and Cas and his everything behind and driving to the motel that was just down the street. Once there, he didn't even bother changing out of his jeans before he collapsed on the bed and was out.

* * *

Retrograde Amnesia = Amnesia for events occurring prior to the episode precipitating the disorder.

Flat Affect= The absence or near absence of emotional response to a situation that normally elicits emotion. It is observed in schizophrenia and some depressive disorders. Also called flattened affect.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, I've actually be writing more in this story, so I hope you enjoy this next installment. There will be a good few more to come.
> 
> Warnings/Disclaimer: Mental illness, angst, hurt/comfort, as much swearing as the show, mentions of Sam's hallucinations, past violence.

It was only a minute or two after Dean woke that everything that had happened the day before came flooding back. Sam's terrifying break down, the hospitals (plural!) finding Cas... Dean rolled over and buried his face in the scratchy motel pillow. When it rains it pours. Sighing, he got up and showered quickly, trying not to think as the spray beat down on him. A coffee run later, and he was pulling into the hospital parking lot.

Inside, when the receptionist asked who he was here for, Dean paused for a second before saying Sam's name. Castiel was on the tip of his tongue (not that that would mean anything to them, as he was going by Jimmy here) but Dean didn't feel up to seeing Cas yet, to dealing with the crazy tangle of emotions that came with seeing the angel. He'd deal with Cas later. He followed the nurse (not Daphne this time, but an older woman named Sheila) until he reached Sam's door.

The nurse pulled open the door, greeting Sam like they were good friends while she checked him over. He looked much the same as he did last night, still beat to hell and back (literally) still pale and tired, still flinching at nothing. He was sitting up against the barred headboard, with an IV in his hand.

Sheila bustled around, adjusting things and doing nurse-y things, but was happy to explain that the IV was saline for hydration, and some anti-anxiety medicine to keep him calm. She did a few more things, with Dean standing awkwardly in the corner, and Sam following her movements with tired eyes, until she was done and left, leaving the door cracked behind her.

Then, they were alone, and Dean felt suddenly that he wanted to be anywhere but here. Nerves churned his stomach, and he shook his head at his ridiculousness. This was Sam. He took a step forward.

Sam's eyes, which had closed as the nurse left, opened lazily at his approach. They tracked his steps until they widened as Sam seemed to suddenly realize he was in the room.

"Dean? Are you really here?" Sam asked. His voice was shot. Dean nodded, and dragged the chair over to sit beside the bed. Sam flinched at the slight scrape, even though Dean had mostly picked it up. Dean decided to ignore it.

"Yeah, Sam. It's me again. How are you feeling?" Dean asked. By which he meant, 'hey, you still seeing the devil everywhere you go?'. You couldn't just say that though...

Sam seemed to get it though, his eyes flickering to the other side of the room, and then back to Dean. Dean glanced over as well, and as he expected, saw nothing.

"He's still here." Sam murmured, as if Satan could hear him. "They've got me on something, keeps me calm. It's nicer. He can't freak me out so much."

Dean smiled slightly to hear the relief in Sam's tone. "That's good." He patted Sam's arm, carefully avoiding the bandages wrapped around the mangled cut in his palm. Sam took a breath and raised his eyes to Dean's. They widened.

"He's saying it's poison, the the doctors are trying to kill me. He says I should rip it out." Sam's fingers, still under his moved towards the IV. Dean pressed down, grabbing the hand within his own two.

"You're not gonna do that though, are ya, Sammy?" Dean said, wrapping his fingers around his brothers. "The doctors aren't trying to kill you, they're making it better. You're going to leave that in and get better, right?"

Sam breathed in deep, and relaxed his hand, nodding. Dean felt his throat tighten. Oh, Sammy...

"Hey, why don't you lay down, bud? I'll help you sleep." Dean said.

Sam shifted downwards, but he started to protest once he was horizontal.

"I can't sleep, Dean. He stops me. He won't let me."

Dean moved from the chair to sit on the bed, leaning his elbow on the headboard.

"Sh, sh..." Dean ran his hand over Sam's hair, in need of a wash by this point. "It's okay. I'll keep him away. Just close your eyes."

Sam did, and took a deep breath. Dean started to brush his fingers through Sam's hair. After another moment, he began to hum, moving through everything from Metallica to The Beatles to that emo crap that Sam played that never seemed to get out of his head. Sam relaxed more and more under his touch, and Dean felt both of their breathing even out.

Then, just as Sam seemed to be finally falling asleep, he jerked harshly, sucking in a gasp. His breathing sped up after that, his eyes wide open and he flailed away from Dean in a panic. Dean lurched forwards, trying to hold onto Sam, to at least keep him from falling off the bed, but it just seemed to make it worse. Sam made a wordless noise of terror, and then blinked. Finally, he seemed to see Dean again, and not the hallucinations.

"D-Dean...Dean..." Sam stuttered and gulped, gasping his name over and over. Dean pulled him into a tight hug, as Sam broke down, his body shuddering and his breath wet. Dean's shoulder grew damp, and he'd admit without shame that his face did too. He muttered nonsense words and Sam's name, because he didn't know what else he could possibly say.

"Sammy," Dean whispered. He was realizing that he was losing Sam. He had been for ages-ever since Cold Oak, to be honest. Sam had never really come back to him. It was always only for a limited time, short lived and full of misery. If it wasn't Dean himself dying, it was Sam sneaking around with Ruby, or saying yes to Lucifer, or not having a soul, or going crazy. Sam was gone and back and gone again so many damn times, but Dean would never get used to losing him. The pain of it, especially after the good times had reminded him of all he'd once had, only made the grief the next time around so much worse.

Dean sniffed, and felt his breath hitch against Sam's neck. He couldn't do this again, couldn't mourn his brother another freaking time-he just gotten him back. He couldn't do it again, he just couldn't.

And Sam wasn't his only problem. Cas was three doors away. Dean blinked away fresh tears. It was the same with Cas. Losing him, and finding him and losing him all over again. Now he was back, but not all of him, not really. Cas wasn't there, and Dean didn't know what to do.

Please...I need some help.

Dean didn't know who he was praying to. Maybe Cas, maybe God, maybe no one at all. He didn't even know anymore.

Sam had quieted in his arms, only sniffling occasionally, and if it wasn't for his brothers gigantor body he'd think he held his five year old Sammy again, trying not to wipe his face on his sleeve because Deanie said so.

"Ah man, Sammy..." Dean murmured. "Everything's so messed up."

"Yeah," Sam replied, sounded choked. He trembled a bit in his arms, and Dean tightened his hold.

"I found Cas, Sam." Dean said after a moment, whispered, like it was a secret. Sam turned his head to look at him. "He's three rooms down from yours."

"He's alive?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Ass full of crazy...can't remember a thing. But alive and kicking."

Sam shifted, brows furrowed. He tensed for a moment, glancing to the side of the room, but then brought his shadowed eyes back to Dean's.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know." Dean answered, and then sudden anger flared up. "I mean, he's the one who did this to you!"

Sam had the nerve to shrug. "We knew the wall would come down at some point. At least I got to have a little time."

"Not enough," Dean insisted. "It could have lasted your whole life, but Cas ruined everything. Then he had to go and die, and left us with all the Purgatory crap he let loose. And now he's back, but he's useless, and you're down for the count, and I have to deal with all this, Sammy...you can't leave me alone to deal with all this." Dean's voice broke, and he couldn't go on. Tears filled his eyes, and he shuddered in the grip of the emotions.

Then, Sam raised his hand up to brush the side of his face, trying to comfort even in his misery. Here he was, crying like a little girl, while his dying brother tried to make him feel better!

"Dean," Sam's raw voice whispered.

Dean sniffled, sucked in a clean breath and wiped his face with his hand, squeezing Sam's still uplifted hand as it fell back to the bed.

"I'm sorry," Sam finished, and Dean almost laughed or maybe that was a sob?

"Don't be. Just hold on, okay?" Dean said, and then a new determination filled him. "I'm going to make this better. I'll find someone who can help, something. Hell, I'll slap some sense into Cas. But I am not leaving you here to die."

He lay Sam back down, easing himself from the bed. Sam looked exhausted, shattered really, but there was love and hope and faith in his eyes, and that was enough.

"You just stay here, okay Sammy?"

Sam wiggled his hand around the room. "Not going anywhere." Dean nodded, and managed a grin.

"You keep that sense of humor, Sam." Dean said, and brushed the hair off Sam's forehead again. It really was way too long. "I'll be back later."

Dean left door ajar behind him, and stepped out into the hallway. People were starting to mill around, but so far there was only the inmates. He didn't see a white jacketed nurse or doctor anywhere. Good. Thus unsupervised, Dean walked down the hallway three doors, and stopped in front of Cas'. It was shut, as were many of the doors in the hall. Guess when you were crazy, you didn't have much of a reason to get up early.

He lifted a fist to knock, and then paused. He wondered if Cas would be asleep, if he even slept, angel that he was. Would he just be staring at the wall, or maybe he'd be doing one of the puzzles they handed out here?

Well, only one way to find out. Dean brought his fist down, and knocked.

At first there was no change from inside the door, then there was a slight shifting noise, and a foot step directly on the other side.

"Who's there?" Cas' voice called, sounding just the same, if a little tired. Dean stepped a little closer.

"It's Dean, from yesterday."

Slowly, the door cracked open revealing a braceleted hand and a sliver of Cas' face, enough for his blue eyes to peep through.

"Hey, man. How're you doing?" Dean said cheerfully. Cas' only response was to frown deeper. Well, nothing had changed there.

"What do you want?"

Dean felt his smile slip, no matter how hard he tried to hold onto it.

"Just wanted to keep you company for a while, see how you were doing?" Dean said, wishing he had a better cover story. Cas eyed him for a long moment, suspicion in his gaze.

"I suppose." Cas finally said, and turned from the door, leaving it open. Dean guessed that meant he could follow. He entered the room, and saw the other chair where he'd left it the night before. He brought it around so it was facing the first chair, where Cas was sitting down. It was directly in the light of the window. The sun had finally came out, and it seemed that Cas was basking in the rays. It hit the white of his pjs and made him almost blinding to look at, angelic even. The sight made an uncomfortable lump rise in Dean's throat.

"So..." Dean started, and Cas' eyes slipped from the middle distance haze they'd been in, though they didn't come to meet his gaze. "How are you feeling? You seem a little better; you weren't looking so hot last night."

Cas blinked and finally looked at him, tilting his head.

"It wasn't too warm in this building, why should I look hot?" He asked, and Dean felt his throat thicken again. That was something he hated about crying: once you started, it was so easy to just keep restarting again and again. You thought you'd gotten yourself under control, but someone says something, and there goes the waterworks again. He would have been fine, but Cas just sounded so much like the old Cas right then. He sniffed.

"It's just an expression, dude. I meant, you looked kinda horrible."

"Thanks," Cas said, and was that a faintest hint of sarcasm? Dean felt an absurd rush of pride. He cleared his throat, and rubbed the back of his neck, searching for a subject change.

"So, what are you up to today?"

Cas shrugged. "There are activities in the main room, and I have therapy sometime today... To tell you the truth, I don't much like going to either."

Dean sat back in his chair, feeling lighter than he did before, which confused him. How could being with Cas make him feel better? He should be furious at the guy, after all that he did, after what he'd done to Sam! He should be inches away from closing his hands around his neck, but mostly he felt tired. Hell, yeah, there was anger. He didn't think he'd ever get over what Cas' actions had done to Sam, what they still might do...but he felt the need to treat this guy in front of him with kid gloves, just to play along and see. His roiling emotions, and scratchy eyes calmed down, and he breathed in deep.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Sometimes it's nice to just sit." Dean said. Cas nodded, and his eyes went back towards the window, although they still didn't focus on the outside completely.

"What would you do, then, if you could do anything you wanted today?" Dean asked, and Cas flicked his eyes towards the window, for real.

"I'd go outside. They have lovely gardens here, and I like the insects. I remember things about the insects." Cas' voice was wistful, and Dean blinked at the notion that bugs were something that stuck with Cas through the memory wipe: out of all the knowledge he had.

"What do you remember?" Dean asked.

"About insects?" Cas asked, and Dean chuckled a bit.

"Sure, about bugs."

What followed made Dean wish he'd been less open ended. As if he had been waiting for someone to ask about the one thing he still remembered, he launched into a entomology lecture that would put all the biology teachers he'd had to shame. Dean listened, letting the words wash over him, and rather enjoying (if not the topic) the way that Cas looked at him, and how his eyes brightened, and the load on his shoulders seemed to vanish for a moment.

When he wound down with a warm recitation of facts about bees, Dean thought he'd better interrupt.

"You sure do know your bugs, man." Cas nodded, something like happiness in his face. It was strange, making Dean feel both upset and glad.  
He was broken from his thoughts by the door opening.

"Well, Jimmy, it's time for breakfast-oh!" It was Daphne. She bustled in and then covered her mouth at seeing Dean. "What are you doing in here?"

Castiel, stoic angel of the Lord, honest to goodness grinned at Daphne. "I was telling Dean about the insects that live in the garden."

Dean smiled and waved nervously. He remembered now how he wasn't supposed to be in here at all. He didn't think visiting hours had even started yet, they really only let him in to see Sam because he was new and distraught.

Daphne was blinking, and then recovered herself. She smiled at Cas. "Well, that was nice of him to sit with you, and listen."

"Yeah, good to see you...Jimmy. I'd better be going." Dean stood, and edged around Daphne. "Sorry."

Daphne turned to Dean. "Wait outside, I want to talk to you."

Dean smiled his best grin at her. "Of course." He turned to the door. "See you later, man." He said to Cas. Cas nodded politely, his face back to neutral...it was better than panicking, Dean guessed.

He had only leaned on the door for a moment before Daphne came storming out, and pinned him under her gaze.

"What did you think you were doing in there?" She asked, frowning. Her hair was pretty curly today, and with it and her glare she looked rather fearsome. Dean made himself as disarming as possible.

"I'm sorry, Daphne. I know you said to wait for the doctor's say so, but I just wanted to see him, make sure he was doing alright after last night."  
Daphne's frown deepened, but now Dean saw that concern for Cas that he'd been counting on.

"The disturbance last night was because of you. What if he'd had another episode this morning? No one even knew you were, that's against policy!"

"The people at the front let me in to see Sam. I just stopped in with Jimmy for a minute."

"What were you talking about?" Daphne asked, and Dean shrugged.

"Bees, bugs, whatever the hell he wanted to tell me about. I didn't say much."

Daphne's shoulders wilted a little, and Dean knew he wasn't going to get into trouble.

"Well, as luck would have it, I spoke with the doctors last night. They want to speak with you, of course, but they did say you could visit him."

"Sweet," Dean said, clapping his hands together. "We done here?"

He went to go, somewhere, perhaps back to Sam's room, but Daphne put out a hand.

"Wait, Dean...I'm glad you found your friend, I am. And I'm glad Jimmy has someone, but you have to understand...his situation is very precarious. If he never remembers, he could stay here for the rest of his life, but if it does come back, and it's bad...he'll go to jail or worse. If you know anything, he could still go to jail just based on your testimony."

Dean looked at her. "I'm confused. If he was a mass murdering lunatic, wouldn't you want him out of your hospital?"

Daphne looked down. "I don't believe he did what they say. He's a good person, like you said last night. I just can't believe he would do any of that."

"I couldn't either, sister..." Dean muttered.

"What was that?"

"Uh, I mean, me either. Look," Dean gestured back towards the door. "Jimmy has been my friend for a long time. I thought he was dead, but it turns out he was here the whole time. Yeah, shit went down, but if there's any way I can save him, I will."

Daphne stared at him. "I believe you. Just, be careful."


End file.
